Twist of Fate

Chapter 6

They weren't bad as far as parents went. Christopher really only had one other couple to compare them to. Hermione read to him daily and had even begun teaching him how to write. He ate very well and enjoyed most of the food. Harry would take him out to the park in the evenings, where they would play catch or tag or whatever else fathers liked to do with sons. Anna visited them and as the days went by, it became easier for her to leave without upsetting Christopher.

Gertrude's first visit seemed to surprise her. She saw that they were functioning almost like a family. Christopher displayed his ability to write the alphabet and even read simple words. Hermione remarked that he was learning everything as fast as she could teach him and that she wouldn't be surprised if he had taken on her learning ability. Harry played with him while Gertrude was there and she smiled at seeing them interact.

Hermione was amazed at how well the pieces fell into place. She and Harry felt like one cohesive unit running the household than two separate people. Hermione became a work-from-home mother, which was easy given that she spent most of her time proofreading books and doing research for the various authors in the publishing company she worked for. It was something that she didn't need to be in the office for. In addition, Harry's new position in the Auror Academy was going so well that it was as if nothing could bring them down.

But that was before Christopher's nightmares began.

It was the middle of the night. The house was quiet except for Crookshanks and the owls. Harry and Hermione were sleeping peacefully in their bed and Christopher tossed and turned in his. Then, suddenly, a scream pierced through the air.

Harry and Hermione woke instantly and they both reached for their wands. They went racing down the hall to Christopher's room and found him sitting in his bed, drenched in a cold sweat, and white as a sheet. Harry turned on the light, half expecting to find someone in the room with their son. The boy was alone and Hermione rushed to the bed. She wrapped Christopher in her arms and rocked him gently back and forth.

"It's okay," she whispered, smoothing his damp hair back. "You're okay."

Christopher sobbed into her shoulder. Harry put his wand down and walked toward the two most important people in his life and knelt down on the floor beside them. He reached up and also ran his hands through Christopher's hair. "What happened?" he softly asked.

"I saw them die," Christopher cried. "I saw what happened."

Harry and Hermione exchanged worried glances. "What do you mean?" Hermione gently asked. "You dreamed about them?"

"The fire," Christopher said. Hermione and Harry exchanged shocked looks this time. No one had told Christopher that the couple who had raised him thus far had died in a fire. "I saw the fire," he continued. "It was started by someone looking for me."

"Why were they looking for you, sweetheart?" Hermione asked.

Christopher looked at Harry. "Because they know I'm your son," he said.

Harry felt his blood turn to ice. "Did you see who it was?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

Christopher shook his head. "All I could see were black eyes. They were mad because I wasn't in the house."

Harry felt himself start to shake. He slowly stood and left the boy's bedroom to think about what he'd said. Harry knew, more than most ever could, what those dreams were like. He believed Christopher's dream because he had been there. He had dreamed about things that couldn't have possibly been known. He dreamed about so many things regarding Voldemort that it made so much sense when he realized what he had been in those final days of the war. What if there were lasting consequences? He had fathered Christopher while he was still a horcrux. Maybe, just maybe, that had given Christopher a connection?

He thought about the memories he had seen of Tom Riddle. The man had dark eyes. Then again, so had Snape. Of course, he now knew that Snape had truly been Dumbledore's man, but that didn't stop him from wondering.

Who had known about the boy? They still hadn't come public with the information. One of the reasons they had done most of their shopping in the Muggle world was to prevent people from asking questions before they were ready to give answers.

Harry wanted to believe that Christopher's dream was just that-a dream, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was something more.

Hermione came out of Christopher's bedroom nearly a half an hour later. She sighed as she walked up to Harry, seeking comfort in her husband's embrace. "I've never seen anyone so frightened," she said softly.

"I think he may have actually seen something," Harry confessed.

Hermione sighed as she pulled away and met Harry's eyes in the darkness of their living room. "You mean like when you could see things that Voldemort did?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "I think so," he replied. "I think that whoever it is that Chris dreamed about, it was real and we need to find out who it is before he or she attacks us again. If this person with black eyes was willing to kill Chris's adoptive parents because he wasn't there, what else would they do?"

Hermione sighed heavily. "What are we going to do, Harry?" she asked. "We're not soldiers anymore..."

"We never were," Harry replied. "But that doesn't mean that we can't stand up and fight. If it wasn't an accident, we can't let the person who killed the people who took care of our son for five years get away with it."

Hermione nodded. "You're right," she said. She sighed heavily. "You're absolutely right..."

The next day, Harry went to work with one intent: To investigate the fire that had taken the lives of Christopher's adoptive parents. He may have been a teacher at that point, but one of the requirements of maintaining his status as an Auror was to keep up on the cases and other things that may have some element of Dark Magic associated with it. His class wasn't scheduled to arrive until noon, so Harry used the morning to find out any information that he possibly could.

He called for the reports surrounding the fire. They were delivered to him nearly an hour later, which was to be expected. Since defeating Voldemort, Harry had learned that pretty much anyone would do what they could for him as to stay on his good side. It seemed that no one wanted the Boy Who Lived to be an enemy.

As he read and reread the reports, Harry couldn't find anything that would even suggest that a third person would be in the house. The bodies of Kent and Melissa Browning were found in the living room with the remains of a wine bottle and two glasses. Spells had revealed that they had been dressed nicely as though on a fancy date, and that they had been enjoying themselves. They hadn't noticed the fire once, which was what raised Harry's suspicions. Though they were likely inebriated, there wasn't enough wine in the world to keep a person from realizing that there was a fire and at least trying to put it out. Yet Mr. and Mrs. Browning had been found in the living room, leaning against the sofa, with absolutely no signs of attempting to put out the blaze.

Their deaths had been ruled accidental, but something about it left a nasty taste on the back of Harry's throat. He knew, just knew, that there had been dark magic involved in the fire. It couldn't be an accident.

The first time Harry called on Anna, he didn't think it would be to question her. He thought that the first time he called her, it would be to have her watch Christopher while he and Hermione went out to dinner or something much more normal than this. However, when Anna came into his office the next morning, looking frightened and concerned, Harry knew that there was not ever going to be a 'normal' reason for him to call Anna.

She looked thinner than she had the last time he had seen her. Her hair hung around her face, lifeless and dull. Her dark eyes seemed to be empty pits and Harry wondered if someone was pulling her puppet strings.

"How is Chris?" she asked him.

Harry nodded. "He's doing well," he replied. "He's adjusting quite nicely."

"So why am I here?" Anna asked.

Harry sighed. "He's been having nightmares," he replied. "I was wondering if you knew something that might help him so that he doesn't have them anymore?"

Anna shook her head. "His parents sometimes gave him tea to calm him, but he never cared for it. He didn't normally have nightmares though."

"Has Christopher ever seen things before?" he asked. "Things he couldn't possibly know?"

Anna shook her head again. "Not that I know of," she replied.

Harry nodded. "Who was at the house that night?" he asked. "Was it just Chris's adoptive parents?"

Anna nodded. "Yes," she replied. "They were having some problems, marital, and they wanted a night where they didn't have to worry about waking Chris so that they could work on those problems. They didn't want him to worry. Chris was always afraid of losing his parents. He was afraid that no one would want him if something happened to them. Instead of getting a divorce, they wanted to try to make it work for Chris's sake. "

"Were either of them seeing someone else?" Harry asked. "How many people knew that Christopher was adopted?"

"No one knew that he was adopted," Anna replied. "They didn't want anyone to know that. Chris didn't even know until Gertrude came to pick him up. I was there when he was told."

"Have you ever seen anyone following Chris around?" Harry asked. "Someone trying hard to be inconspicuous or stay close to shadows?"

Anna was quiet for a moment before she spoke. "No," she replied. "No one." Harry remembered his childhood when he had looked at Dumbledore with that same look in his eyes. He remembered his tone when he told the old headmaster that he hadn't anything else to say. He could practically taste Anna's lie.

"You can go now, Anna," he said. "Thank you for stopping by.